Struggle
by Futatsu
Summary: "The son of the ailing king shalt strike down the mad queen and rule over the blind sheep of this fateless land." This prophecy was meant to foretell the fate of the desolate land of Moira. What happens when the prophecized son is discovered as being a girl only days after being spirited away to a safe location? Such is the story of Rawlins, who struggles with misfortune every day.
1. Short Synopsis

Struggle – Synopsis

This is a short synopsis I wrote as an introduction to "Struggle", to introduce my novel on NaNoWriMo. I'm adding it here just because it's too long to put in the summary, so please do take a read if you'd like. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

 _The son of the ailing king shalt strike down the mad queen and rule over the blind sheep of this fateless land._

Prophecies foretell the fate of a country, person, or world. They are puzzled over, treasured, worshipped. Could such a holy passage go awry?

The prophecy was shaken by the discovery that the heir was in fact a girl, and not a boy. How is the land going to see brightness when the one who was meant to enlighten it failed to even meet the very first requirement?

Such is the story of Rawlins, who was meant to be the prophecized son of the faded king of Moira, but was discovered as being a girl days after being spirited away to a 'safe' location for her to be raised as the saviour of her homeland. How will this poor, unlucky maiden survive as misfortune continues to cross her path at every given moment?


	2. Chapter 1 - Red

Struggle – Chapter 1 (Red)

 _"I sacrifice."_

 _Those two words were spoken without remorse or willingness; they were simply spoken to confirm an agreement. As they fell from the bloodied, and chapped lips of the battered, and broken warrior, all literal-Hell broke loose._

 _Bodies were torn apart in every direction ever conceived. Torsos separated from their hips, limbs ripped from their sockets, brains fleeing from their vacant skulls – everyone was instantly snatched and flayed and devoured by the blood-starved Apostles. The said liquid flew everywhere, spraying the already-red landscape of wailing faces, and those who stood upon the dreadful floor. The air was filled with the blood-chilling screams and cries of those who had been sucked into this dreadful ceremony._

 _Amongst the victimized prey, she stood and stared at the massacre before her. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think – something had gripped her legs, throat, and mind. All that her frozen mind could process were the sanguine maws of the beasts the were rampaging in front of her._

 _Fear had grasped her, and shackled her to prevent her from doing anything. But why? Why couldn't she shake herself out of this stupor, and go save her comrades? Why was her consciousness so numbed by this utter sense of helplessness, but refusing to do anything about it?_


	3. Chapter 2 - The Foretold Birth

Struggle – Chapter 2 (The Foretold Birth)

Pained screams and wails of a birthing woman rang shrilly within the walls of the underground room, hiding away the sight from the dying day. The room was lit by a large number torches that adorned the cobblestone walls. A mix of sweat and blood and mold merged to create a disgusting smell within the closed room, devoid of any fresh air. The struggling woman clenched and unclenched the edges of the bed she laid upon, her knuckles turning a sickening white to a pallid peach with each clench and unclench. A scratchy grey blanket has been hastily pulled over her shaking form, clashing with the silky white material of the nightdress she wore. Blood stained the pale colour of the bedsheets, shadowed by the blanket being held up by the bent and spread legs of the soon-to-be-mother.

There were no other souls in the room, save for a midwife and a female servant. The midwife knelt at the end of the bed, aiding the woman with her labour. The female servant stood nearby with her hands tightly clasped in front of her, a rigid expression beset on her face. Outside the room stood two soldiers, guarding the entrance to the room with steely expressions. Nearby stood a doctor, and a few servants. None of them spoke a word, nor made a single sound as they awaited any sort of news from the midwife.

The silence was suddenly broken by the midwife wordlessly exclaiming, her then-tired eyes suddenly lighting up as she perceived the top of the blood-matted head of the baby.

"Madam, I can see your child's head," the midwife told the woman. The woman simply sobbed out of relief, unable to even utter a word as the pain of the process continued to claw at her very being.

The hour continued to tick away as little by little, the baby slowly began to reveal itself to the waking world. As the child continued to appear, the midwife did her deed, and fully delivered the child. The pained screams of the woman were suddenly replaced by the shrieking cries of the newborn babe. It was a very welcome change that the men gathered outside were overjoyed to hear. However, the midwife's brow was creased with worry as she flipped the baby over. She didn't even bother assessing what the baby's gender was, as she was very confident that it was a boy.

The female servant grabbed a clean sheet off of a table set in a corner of the room, and handed it to the midwife. The midwife swaddled the child with expertise, as she was very familiar with the whole process of aiding the birth of a child.

"Help our Lady clothe herself now," the midwife ordered the female servant, who was quick to act on the order. The female servant took the scratchy blanket off the woman, and handed it to the midwife. She then helped the woman up, and led her to a chair where the woman sat. Her skin had become an alarming white, as she shook in cold. Her lips were blue, and refused to stop shivering. The servant moved back to the lonely table, where she lifted a simple dress that was only made to keep its wearer warm. She brought it over to the woman, and helped her robe herself in it. The process was rather slow and frustrating, as the woman could barely move her fingers to grasp the dress. The servant frowned and growled with unrest, and her actions became more impatient as she roughly pulled the material over the woman's shaking frame. After she finished lacing up the dress, she whirled around, snatched a wooly robe, draped it over the woman's shoulders, and tied it up.

All the while, the midwife had been hastily clothing the wailing child in layers to try and keep it warm, as it was currently winter and any newborn could easily die of a fever after exposure to even slightly cold wind. The midwife quietly murmured reassuring words to the newborn with efforts of trying to calm it down. After wrapping the child in a great many layers, she checked to make sure that the said layers would not fall off. She then carried the child over to the table in the corner. The midwife opened up a large basket, which was packed with blankets. She unfolded the blankets with one hand before carefully lowering the newborn into the basket, and packing the blankets over the baby's body again. She was careful not to cover its face.

The midwife then turned to the female servant, who was already by her side.

"Help me fold the sheets," she instructed. The female servant wordlessly followed the midwife over to the bed, where they quickly pulled the bloodied sheet off the bed, and folded it into a compact pile. They were careful to fold it in a way so that the blood was hidden, and the clean sides were visible. The female servant took the folded sheet in her hands.

However, as she was about to move to the bucket, the panicked voices of the men outside drew the two women's attention.

"A messenger just came, and has informed us that there is reportedly a large group of soldiers is approaching this area!" a man from outside the room shouted, his voice panicked. The midwife calmly took a few moments to think, before answering the man outside.

"We will be out shortly. Our Lady and the child are prepared to go."

The midwife and the female servant heard the man that had shouted tell the messenger something, and then a fading patter of footsteps as the messenger left.

The female servant looked to the midwife with panic clearly written on her face.

"W-What shall we do madam?" she asked the midwife, her voice shaking.

"Calm yourself," the midwife responded with a reassuring voice. "The underground level of this castle is very hard to navigate unless one is familiar with the secret passages connecting this level. The soldiers will be delayed by that. For now, all we can do is to exit this room as quickly as possible."

The female servant visibly relaxed after hearing what the midwife told her, and her actions were not as clumsy as they could have been. She carried on, and dropped the sheet in the bucket. She then picked up a lid, and covered the bucket with it. She firmly closed the two clasps on the lid, and jiggled the lid to make sure it would not fall off.

Meanwhile, the midwife had taken one last look at the now quieter child's face with an expression of profound sadness. She then grasped the handle of the basket with both hands and lifted it up. The midwife turned to see if the female servant was done, and was met with the sight of said woman helping the new mother up to her feet.

"Be sure that our Lady is able to keep up," she told the female servant, who nodded in understanding. Her expression was stressed, but she also had a gleam of determination in her dark eyes. They made their way to the door, where the female servant opened it, and they all exited the bleak room.

The men outside instantly directed the attention to the women and child who had just entered the long hallway. They were overjoyed by the sight of the newborn that rested in the basket held by the midwife. However, they were also greatly worried and saddened by the sight of their struggling Lady, who was being supported by the female servant. The midwife motioned to a servant to come forward. He obeyed, and the midwife pointed to the closed bucket that still resided in the room.

"You must carry the bucket, which contains a bloodied sheet, with you. We must somehow dispose of it," she told the servant. He nodded in understanding, and entered the room to go fetch it.

"Doctor Loordes," the midwife addressed the doctor, "how fares our Lady?"

The doctor approached the new mother, and pressed a hand to her forehead while observing her face.

"She is very much too ill to face the cold winds, but what choice have we?" he assessed with a grim tone.

"But is she able to walk?" she pressed.

"I'm afraid not," he answered. "One of us will have to carry her."

The female servant suddenly cut in. "But that would disgrace and shame her!" she protested, her expression fierce. The midwife glared at her.

"But as doctor Loordes said, 'what choice have we?'" she hissed, to which the female servant shrank away. The midwife turned to one of the guards.

"One of you will have to carry her," the midwife told them. The two looked at each other with a troubled expression, and seemed to have a silent argument before the taller one faced the midwife.

"Madam, I can carry our Lady," he volunteered. His expression was still troubled, and he seemed quite unwilling to do so. The midwife nodded and thanked him.

The female servant, and the midwife then helped the woman cling onto the crouching guard's back. He carefully bounced her up to readjust his hold on her legs, and stood with a red face. The servant that the midwife had sent to fetch the bucket had long since returned, with the said object now in his hands. He seemed to have some trouble carrying the heavy weight, but didn't say a word.

"Is everyone ready to leave?" the midwife asked all who were present. The question was very rhetorical, as they needed to be ready to leave at any given moment, and they were quite anxious to do so. After the midwife saw everyone nod, she addressed the whole group again.

"I will lead the way to the exit that connects to the main bridge now. From there, we will discuss where everyone can take refuge at to ensure their safety."

The midwife then proceeded to take a torch off a wall, and take the lead. She began walking down the hallway, and the whole group followed. The newborn's cries had subsided now, as it seemed that it saw no use in crying due to the lack of attention it received. Instead, it was peacefully sleeping within the basket.

The group continued to trek through the dimly lit halls of the underground. They left the closed room, and the hallway quickly became dark once more as the torch was carried away. A strange, guttural noise similar to a growl was heard in the bleak darkness of the hallway, accompanied by a pair of glowing eyes. The glow shut off, and a pitter-patter quietly resounded within the darkness as it began following the group.


	4. Chapter 3 - Apprehended

Struggle – Chapter 3 (Those of the Night)

The hopeful group continued on their way, pushing through the darkness of the hallway with the torch that the midwife carried being their only guide. Along the way, they had passed many intersections – yet the midwife continued in the same direction, her eyes set forward. The mood was tense, and the only sound they could hear was the clicking of their boots. They had been walking for God knows how long, seeing nothing but the same grey, desolate corridors as they continued on their path. The midwife had long since passed the basket containing the child over to the female servant, as the weight had begun to tire her.

The female servant now clutched the handle of the basket with an iron grip, with a very tense expression written on her face. She felt the immense pressure that the midwife surely must have previously felt from carrying such a precious cargo. This child – born under a bloodred moon, with the blessing of many saints from the Heavens above. A strange contrast that only served to prove how divine this child's birth was. The female servant's fingers only curled around the handle more tightly as she reflected on the many signs that the doctor had discussed with the midwife.

The midwife suddenly came to a halt as she heard a rush of metallic boots. She whipped her head around, trying to locate the source of the sound. Her once calm expression seemed to twitch a little, exposing her sudden worry for a split second to the waiting darkness. The group behind her murmured amongst themselves out of anxiety and curiosity as to why their guide had suddenly stopped.

The soldier carrying the woman readjusted his grip once more, as she was slipping a little. His red cheeks had faded by then, but he was still careful not to accidentally touch the lady in any way conceived inappropriate. He observed the dark expanse of the hallway that still spread before them, and noticed a miniscule flash of light in far in the distance. He scowled, thinking about what he had just seen before concluding that is was a mere trick his eyes had played on his mind.

The midwife turned to the group and announced with a calm voice.

"I believe we are now directly under the northern part of the main bridge. We will have access to the canal through a secret door just up ahead."

The group visibly relaxed, their undying sense of worry now muffed out by the relief of seeing the outside world once more. The midwife began moving again, and led the group a few more meters over to a small wooden door that was built into a wall. That particular section of the wall was unusually dusty, as if never used. The door itself had multiple locks that adorned the right side of the door in a triangle formation. The midwife rummaged through her robe before pulling out a large set of keys all strung one ring. She picked one, ordinary looking key out and inserted it into the first lock.

As the midwife was about to unlock it, more metallic clangs were heard, alerting the group of the presence of more soldiers. They seemed to originate from a hallway not too far from where they stood, and that caused panic to flourish within the people's minds.

"Please hurry!" the female servant begged, tears beginning to swim in her desperate eyes. The rest of the group seemed to be affected by the female servant's plea, as they began to panic. The male servant holding the bucket began frantically searching the cobblestone walls for any other means of escape. The doctor squeezed the fabric over his heart, and leaned heavily against one of the cold walls as if about to suffer from a heart attack. Everyone else began exhibiting signs of great stress.

"We must stay calm!" the midwife shouted, fully facing the group now. A fierce expression was written on her face – eyebrows scrunched together, mouth set in a thin line, eyes ablaze with determination. "We have come too far to give up now."

The midwife's short speech had seemed to snap the group out of their panic. The midwife didn't bother checking to see if they were truly calm or not, as she refocused on her task of opening the door. She unlocked the first lock, and then proceeded to do the same for the second. The task seemed to take an eternity, as time slowed down for those trapped within the confinement of the underground level.

Finally, the midwife reached the final lock. However, in a cruel twist of fate, her shaking hand fumbled for a split second too long and dropped the keys. They landed on the floor with a harsh clang, driving the group into a mad frenzy again. Cursing loudly, and effectively shocking the group into a daze, the midwife struggled to pluck the keys off the ground. She successfully retrieved them, despite her bad back, and located the third and final key before jamming it into the last keyhole.

Suddenly, a dart protruded out of the midwife's neck. She stood still for a horrifyingly long moment; the key in her grasp fully turned; her expression one of pure surprise; before she fell to the cold floor, her body sprawled on the floor in an unceremonious fashion.

The whole group stared at her twitching body in silent shock before they erupted into panic.  
The male servant who was carrying the bucket dropped the said luggage in shock as he clawed at his neck with a fearful expression. The bucket fell and splintered into a million pieces as it collided with the floor, bloody water splashing everything within a certain radius with a spray of pale red. The servant collapsed onto the ground just as the midwife did, and let out guttural screams while dying almost instantaneously.

One by one, the rest of the group fell to the fall just as the midwife and the male servant previously did. Small darts protruded out of their necks, and they crumpled to the floor in a convulsing mess. None of them even had time to scream, or call for help, as they were too shocked to even process that primal instinct of man. The darts came from both ends of the hallway, too, causing them to be unable to decide where to run to.

The soldier carrying the woman was, however, lucky to have armour covering his neck right where the dart had been directed at. The small 'dink' of the precise needle of the dart colliding with the metal protecting his neck was miraculously enough to snap him out of his daze. He ran to the door, and kicked it open, as he saw how the midwife had managed to unlock it. He saw that the female servant, who carried the very objective of their mission, had somehow survived too. The dart was hanging off the thin material of the hood that covered the female servant's head. The soldier inferred that the hood was what had saved the servant.

"Go!" he shouted to her, effectively jolting her out of her own trance. She vigorously shook her head before nodding, her cheeks wet with tears as they continued to cascade downwards and into the folds of her cloak. She stumbled towards the exit, only to scream in horror and fall onto her behind, the basket being jostled by the collapse. The newborn began to cry once, this time with horrible, ear-piercing wails.

The soldier's stomach launched into his throat. He rushed forward to apprehend the scene that the female servant had witnessed, only to freeze in place.

There was a whole squad of soldiers with theirs spears drawn, and pointed at the ones who tried to escape. A man wearing visibly richer, and more finely decorated armour stepped forward. He lifted his visor, and revealed a terrifying and horribly scarred face. The man – if he even was a human being – had two maliciously glowing yellow eyes, a hooked nose, and disgustingly cracked lips. He grinned to reveal a set of brilliant, white teeth that could shame a set of expertly sharpened kitchen knives.

"We are the Impalers of the Black Eagle," the man announced, his voice a chilling tone. It reminded the soldier carrying the woman, and the female servant of the hissing of a snake. "She who doth darken the battlefields with Her great wings of darkness hath sent us forward to apprehend the Prophecized Child."

The female servant looked down at the wailing newborn, who's face was beet red and mouth was wide open in an endless scream. She looked back up at the man, and steeled her expression.

"Do..." her voice faltered, but she continued. "Do you plan on killing the child?"

The previously mute woman, who was barely clinging to the soldier's back, suddenly let out an anguished cry.

"Please... Let my child live!" she pleaded in a shaking voice. "Take my life in the child's place! Are you such monsters that you would take the life of one who has not even see the light of its first day?"

The man simply laughed at the woman's pleas. "Thou nobles have always provided such a great source of amusement!" he jeered, keeling back in twisted humour. "And who are thee to call us monsters when we are your kin? Do thee refer to thineself as a monster alike to us?"

The woman began sobbing, her face falling onto the soldier's back. Her tears ran freely, and her cling was no longer there. She began sliding down the soldier's back, to which he responded with a sudden jerk.

The soldier silently observed the female servant's crying face, and felt an utter conflict tear him apart.

He could either abandon his lady, and somehow send the female servant and the child to the other side of the group of soldiers. However, this would mean that we would sacrifice his lady, which meant disrespecting his vows in the worst way possible, and disgracing his whole lineage. But his sense of duty towards his country reigned stronger. If the child were saved, then Moira still had hope, and he could at least rest with the knowledge that he had given this desolate land some small form of salvation.

The soldier remained for a long while before finally speaking again.

"It seems we have no other choice but to act very crassly," the soldier mused, his tone strangely light despite the situation he was in. He carefully lowered the woman he was carrying to the ground. He stood up, causing the apprehensive Impalers before them to strain the weapons forward. Unaffected by this, he walks over to the female servant, and crouches down next to her.

"Make sure you hold onto that basket like your life depends on it," he whispered to her, and she looked at him, puzzled. She still did as she was told.

"And do not let the child fall out," he added. This only confused her even more.

"Fall out?..." she trailed off as she suddenly felt herself being lifted into the air.

The Impalers stared at the soldier in shock as he picked up the female servant like a large boulder, ground his feet into the dirt, and tossed her over the heads of the countless men bent on killing them.


	5. Chapter 4 - Sail

Struggle – Chapter 4 (Sail)

The female servant went sailing over the heads of the many soldiers gathered below. She only started to scream when she fully registered that she had been tossed into the air, about halfway through her journey across. She held onto the basket that carried the Prophecized Child with a deathly grip, her eyes squeezed shut as her mouth was wide open in an endless scream. Her legs were tucked as close as the human body could permit, and she looked like she was in a fetal position. It was a truly humorous sight: a young lady flying through the air like a cannonball curled around a basket.

The soldiers below stared at the female servant with a look of disbelief. Even the demonic captain stood in shock. The whole battalion of the Impalers was frozen in place, their heads craned back to stare up towards the Heavens in awe.

The soldier took this as the perfect opportunity to draw his own sword from over his shoulder, and silently lunged towards the captain with his sword pointed to his left. The captain was caught off-guard by the soldier's sudden movement. The soldier's sword swung to his right, effectively cutting off the captain's head in a smooth movement. Blood sprayed out in a wide arc as the captain's head flew off, landing with a dull thud. Gasps of horror arose from within the ranks of the Impalers.

The female servant had long since landed very unceremoniously on the other side of the Impalers. She had let out a cry of pain as she collided with the ground, still careful to hold the basket tightly against her chest. The newborn babe was still wailing its lungs out – how it had that much longevity in its screaming a strange mystery.

The female servant gasped for air as she tried to regain the breath that had been knocked out of her lungs. Her vision was blurring, and she had trouble focusing on the basket that was still in her tight clutch. Her consciousness was fading in and out; everything was fuzzy. The female servant would have otherwise given in to her desire to sleep if not for the loud battle cry of the soldier. She was jolted awake, and shakily lifted herself off the ground and onto to her two feet. She wobbled for a bit before regaining proper footing. She turned around, and faced the backs of the soldiers, and the sight that she was met with was a very gruesome one indeed.

The soldier who had been carrying the woman was cutting through the ranks of Impalers that stood before him as if it was a breeze. The female servant could not see what exactly was happening, but she could very clearly hear the panicked and pained screams of the soldiers. They frantically tried to regain form after the death of their captain, and to reorganize their scattered comrades. She could see limbs and heads fly into the air as the soldier attacked his foes, effortlessly scattering their rows.

 _Is he truly human?_ she thought, her eyes widened in awe as she partially witnessed the carnage from afar. For a moment she saw his sword raised into the air, and saw how truly massive and monstrous his weapon of choice was. Her knowledge on weapons was extremely limited due to her only being a servant, and lacking the exposure to such things. The female servant could identify two flat spikes in the shape of triangles protruding one either side of the sword near the handle.

However, the tide of the battle suddenly turned against the rampaging soldier. He had somehow ignored all forms of cuts and gashes that the Impalers had inflicted on him, but a crossbow bolt suddenly stuck into his arm. He staggered with a grunt of pain, and was briefly overcome by the Impalers. More bolts came whizzing towards him, and struck him everywhere. He was soon covered in them.

The female servant let out a cry of desperation as she saw her saviour beginning to fall. Tears were once again cascading down her cheeks. She openly sobbed, clutching the basket tighter as her sobs mingled with the babe's rising wails.

They met eyes one final time before he was swallowed by the mass of the Impalers of the Black Eagle.

"Run."

His final words left his lips in a hoarse whisper, but the female servant needed hear him to understand his last and final wish: to see the survival of the Prophecized Child, the last hope of Moira.

To see her survive.

The female servant's legs immediately began carrying her in a mad dash towards the river the main bridge towered over. She stumbled over the rocks that lined the edge, and frantically searched for a means of escape. The next sight that she laid her eyes upon shocked her greatly.

Her lady had somehow managed to get up on her feet, and was staggering over to the bank of the river. The woman's body was visibly shaking, and it was so bad that the female servant cold faintly see it from afar. The female servant rushed forward to help her lady.

"Madam!" she cried in joy, gently grasping one of the stumbling woman's arms in one hand, while still holding the basket carrying the child in the other. The woman slumped forward, and leaned heavily on the female servant.

"I-Is my child s-safe?" she barely managed to ask. She struggled to even push a single syllable past her violently shivering blue lips. The female servant was alarmed by her lady's appearance.

"Yes madam," she reassured her, gripping the other's arm much more tightly. Any could very easily tell that the child was indeed still alive and kicking, as the said child was still screaming its head off. The corners of the trembling woman's lips just barely lifted to resemble a strange smile.

"G-Good..."

The female servant was about to say something else when the maniacal cackling of a soldier drew her attention.

"Well look what we have here!" the soldier jeered, his cracked lips pulled back to reveal disgustingly misshapen teeth. He lumbered forward a bit, and very obviously looked the two woman over with lustful eyes.

The female servant froze, her eyes scanning the large group of soldiers. She had foolishly failed to notice a large group of them come up behind her and her lady. Her mind began to shut down as a crippling sense of helplessness overtook her.

There was no visible means of escape: the soldiers had completely surrounded them, and the only other path of escape was the river. However, the river's water was cold all-year round. It was even deadlier during the winter season, when even a dip would expose the person to a wide array of horrible illnesses.

 _What should I do?_

The female servant wouldn't be able to fight the soldiers like her now-dead saviour could. She lacked the bravery, and physical prowess to even lift a sword half her height. Not only that, but she had the child and its mother to worry about. Neither of them could possibly provide any means of defence.

 _What should I do?_

The soldiers who had apprehended them began laughing once more as they saw the desperate look on the female servant's face. The one who had stepped forward turned to his companions.

"Say, who wants the girlie over here?" he asked loudly, looking over the ones standing behind him with a large and evil grin.

"It looks like she would bite you off though!" came a joking reply from the crowd. The men began laughing with evil humour once more.

The female servant grit her teeth in frustration. She couldn't the objectification she was facing at the moment, but could do naught about it. She simply stared at them in anger, before her lady tugged at her sleeve with a weak grip.

"Y-You must take my child a-and leave at one," the woman whispered to the servant. The female servant's eyes widened at this, and she faced the woman to try and protest, but the woman shook her head.

"I can create a diversion. There is already a barge tied at the bank. Take the dagger that hangs from my belt, and go now. The flow of the river shall carry you far from here. I cannot do anything about the bolts, I am afraid." The woman's voice had begun much stronger by then. Her once drooping eyes had become alit with a renewed vigour and determination which shone true and clear. Her pale face was lit by the torches that adorned the walls next to them, giving the woman's face a warm glow. The female servant saw that arguing with her lady would be useless, and simply waste time. She nodded to the woman before letting go of her arm. The female servant quickly unclasped the dagger hanging from her lady's belt before taking it into her hand and stepping away.

The woman seemed to have found some hidden strength, as she now stood before the group of jeering men with her head held high. The soldiers stared at her with curiosity as she approached them.

"Perhaps you lively folk would like to see something a little..." she trailed off to create an air of suspension. Once she saw that the soldiers' attentions were all trained on her, she continued her speaking. "...different?"

The soldiers looked at each other, before smirks adorned their faces once more. The lead man swaggered up to the woman and raised a hand, but the woman put her own hand up.

"You cannot touch me yet," she instructed. "Do you wish to mar this beautiful body of mine?"

The soldiers were now eagerly staring at the woman, their eyes lustful, and their mouths hanging open in expectation.

While the woman distracted the foolish men, the female servant had snuck over to the barge. She placed the basket inside, and quickly stepped in herself. With shaking hands, the unsheathed the dagger and brought the blade over to the rope that tied the boat to shore.

Unfortunately, one of the soldiers noticed her attempted escape, and pointed a finger at her while shouting, "Hey! That bitch's tryna get outta here!"

The woman saw that the soldiers were now fully distracted by the female servant's attempt to escape. She quickly pulled a small round object from within the folds of her dress, and stuck the threaded end into one of the torches' bright flame.

"Cut the rope!" she shouted to the servant, who quickly obeyed. The barge was immediately separated from land, and began floating down the river at a quickening pace.

The soldiers had now redirected their angered gazes towards the woman, their teeth grit. But their expressions quickly changed when they saw the sparking object in her hand.

"Here's a little surprise for you filthy bastards," she spat, her words rough and unclean. The small round object – a miniature bomb, as they soldiers realized with horror – exploded.

The female servant had curled her body around the basket with the wailing child once more, doing her best to cover the child's face. She had just fully covered the precious life when she heard a loud explosion behind her, and a wave of heat washed over her. She shut her eyes in pain, and cried out, as a piece of debris hit the back of her head, and knocked her out cold.


	6. Chapter 5 - Arrival Ashore

Struggle – Chapter 5 (Arrival Ashore)

" _Oh why do ye stay here and weep, fair lass?"_

 _A glowing figure, with flowing hair like spun gold, unblemished skin shaming even the finest pearls, and beautiful eyes that reflected the border of the Heavens. She stepped forward, and knelt by the crying girl. The woman gently lifted the girl's face, caressing her tear-streaked cheeks with such tenderness that even a wailing babe would be put at ease. The woman smiled brightly, putting the absent stars to shame._

 _"Speak of thy troubles, and of the source of thy sorrow," the woman urged with kindness. The snivelling child scrubbed at her swimming eyes, attempting to rid them of tears. She remained silent, as if mute, and the kindly woman simply one again smiled._

 _"Thou needest not express thy sorrows if they trouble you so," the woman reassured the child. The child looked up, and met eyes with the woman knelt before her. She suddenly felt very safe, and her tears came to a screeching halt._

 _The woman let go of the child's cheeks, and took a gentle hold of the child's dirty hands, bringing the child up with her. The pure colour of the front of the woman's dress was pristine and clean, despite the fact that the woman had just been kneeling in the soil. The child stared at the woman in awe as she rose, her eyes widened in wonder._

 _The woman let go of the child's hands, and began walking towards a milky set of gates in the distance. The child watched her begin to leave, suddenly feeling unwell, unsafe, and fearful once again. Tears began to sting the corners of her eyes once again as she clutched the edge of her filthy skirt. The woman, however, turned around to face the child again. She beckoned her with the stretch of an arm, extending a smooth hand towards the child with a smile._

 _"Let us go hither, fair lass," the woman began. "Let us find a solution to whatever it is that draws tears from thine eyes." The child was taken aback by the woman's kindness; it almost seemed to good to be true. When does a noble ever offer to help such a filthy and lowly peasant such as herself?_

 _But the woman seemed so very sincere. Her clear eyes revealed nothing but honesty, and her body language very open. The child thought for a few more moments before hesitantly taking a step towards the woman. She slowly reached up to grasp the woman's outstretched hand. The woman smiled at her with such warmth that the brilliant afternoon sun seemed to shiver in comparison. The woman began leading the child towards the gates._

 _Their fading forms were a strange and interesting contrast: the woman, tall and elegant, with her golden hair, pale eyes, fair skin, and flowing dress leading a scruffy young girl, with her matted mane, wary gaze, dirty cheeks, and filthy shirt and skirt down a very plainly decorated path. The woman's strides were long and precise, while the child's steps were numerous and stumbling._

 _Despite the child's appearance, upholding, and attitude, the kindly woman still led the child to her gleaming white palace, where the child would soon be welcome into open arms and beginning a strange new life._

The female servant was unconscious for God knows how long. Rosaline – as she had been referred to by the woman – was constantly floating in and out of various memories: from the harsh times of her early childhood, to the pleasant ones in her later life. She observed them in total silence, as if a mute and helpless spectator – she could not react, nor could she every stop them in any way.

At one point, her consciousness peeked its eyes open just a crack. Her conscious mind began to wake, slowly, as Rosaline began regaining a firmer grip on reality. One by one, she began feeling her various body parts: first her eyes, and how horribly tight they were sealed. Then, her throat, and how dry and parched it was. Soon she could very slightly wiggle her fingers, just to make sure they were still there. Eventually, she regained full feeling, and was made painfully aware of how cramped she felt from being curled around a basket for so long.

 _The basket..._

This thought jolted her wide awake, and she managed to sluggishly uncurl her aching body. She peered into the woven container, and let out a loud and shaky breath upon seeing the newborn child fussing inside the many folds of cloth that it had been tucked within.

The ragged female shifted into a sitting position so that her back was supported by one of the walls of the barge, and the basket rested in her lap. She also took this moment to press a hand to the back of her head, only to hiss in pain and yank her hand away.

The back of her head was very tender. The young female looked down at her fingers, only to be alarmed by the sight of blood. Obviously something had hit the back of her head, which had effectively knocked her out cold for a few hours. She realized how lucky she was to have only suffered that single wound.

She then proceeded to take in her surroundings. Rosaline could see that she had been, thankfully, out for only a few hours, for it was still too dark to clearly discern any shapes on the banks of the river. The barge was slowly floating down, carried onwards by the current of the narrow body of water. Up ahead, she could see the distant and blurry shapes of trees beginning to line the shores. The river seemed to get darker, too, indicating to her that she would soon be in the Royal Woods.

Rosaline sighed and slumped back, her grip on the basket loosening. Her eyes began to burn with fresh tears, but they didn't fall; she had nearly cried herself dry during the whole ordeal back at the castle.

This thought brought the memories of the events that had unfolded just hours prior to her rising crashing down onto the female servant's mind. She sobbed in horror as the realization of what happened suddenly hit her like a brick. The darts killing nearly everyone, the soldier sacrificing himself for her and the child, her lady also doing so – they all came haunting back, no matter how hard she willed herself to forget such dark memories.

Rosaline held herself in sadness as she began crying once again, right after she thought her tears had nearly gone dry. She rocker herself back and forth, loudly blubbering nonsense to herself and aggravating the newborn. The said child began howling again, its cries mingling with the pitiful wailing of the female servant.

As the two continued to cry into the night sky, the barge they were on continued to speedily approach the dark forest ahead. By then, Rosaline had calmed down a bit more, her breath catching in her throat as she gasped for air while simultaneously sobbing. The child was still howling away, its shrieking echoing in the dead silent air of the night.

The hiccupping girl observed the treeline ahead, and spotted the sudden appearance of a light in the distance. She rubbed at her eyes and squinted, trying to see what the source of light was. She was able to just barely discern the vague outline of someone holding up a lamp by the shore.

As the barge continued to float towards the forest, she became surrounded by trees. Rosaline could also now see that this 'someone' carrying the lamp was in fact a cloaked figure hunched over a knotted cane. The sight was rather eery, but befitting the unsettling forest in the background.

Rosaline clutched the dagger, which was still unsheathed after she had cut the rope, and prepared to act as soon as there was danger. She kept on hand on the handle of the basket, readying herself to lug it with one hand while slashing madly and wildly with the other.

As she got closer and closer to the figure, the tension in the air only got thicker and thicker. However, Rosaline's extreme tenseness was relieved when the figure spoke out in a very familiar voice.

"Rosaline? Is that you?" the figure asked, and hobbled over to the shore. Rosaline's eyes immediately lit up, and tears began to rim them again. Her cheeks were lifted up high by a toothy smile.

"Miss Hobbs!" she exclaimed in happiness. Rosaline quickly located the sheath of the dagger lying on the floor of the barge, shoved it into her coat, and leaned over the edge of the barge with the basket clutched tightly to her side.

"Grab the rope," the figure – Miss Hobbs, as she was identified – instructed the young female. She extended a long piece of rope with shaking hands and somehow managed to toss one end of it to the waiting girl in the barge. Said female caught the thrown rope, and momentarily set the basket and its wailing child down to pull herself to the shore.

Soon the barge was pulled close enough to shore that Rosaline could hurriedly clamber out, and help the hobbling woman pull the barge up. The struggled for a bit before getting it up to a bare minimum distance out of the water, before tying the barge off with the rope. Rosaline grabbed the basket out of the barge, and held it close to her.

"We must be quick," Miss Hobbs urged. She led the younger female up to higher land, and began trekking through the dark forest. The female servant looked down at the now only fussing child nestled within the basket.

"We're saved, little one," she whispered. "We're saved.


	7. Chapter 6 - Unsure

Struggle – Chapter 6 (Magic)

 **Magic**

The pair walked through the forest without a single word spoken in between them. Despite their heartfelt and very welcome reunion, the direness and sombreness of the situation had blanketed over them. Miss Hobbs lead the much younger female servant through the forest. Rosaline was carrying the basket with enormous care, as is she felt that any wrong move would bring the world crashing down around her.

They continued on their trek through the forest on the roughly-marked path in silence for a long time. Divergence of the path was very common. So many were they, that Rosaline lost record of how many there were at one point after keeping count. Often times then path forked into two separate roads, and there was at times a more uncommon split in one of the splits itself. This thought made the weary servant shiver, as she couldn't dare think about what would happen if she were to get lost in the twisting forest: alone, frightened, vulnerable. All the predators that would hunt her down for her flesh, and to be possibly consumed alive... Rosaline quickly abandoned these thoughts to preserve her sanity in this dark time.

Miss Hobbs suddenly broke the thick silence, "We will be arriving shortly."

Rosaline searched the area ahead of them over the ancient woman's shoulder, but failed to see any distinct shapes. She could barely make out the outline of a noticeably larger tree in the distance.

"Is that it, Miss Hobbs?" Rosaline asked her companion. The older woman turned her head to give Rosaline a mysterious smile.

"It is indeed, my child," she confirmed. "Are thou not able to see it?"

Rosaline creased her brows, and shook her head. "No, Miss. Are you?"

"I am indeed able to see it from here. Very clearly, in fact."

This response startled Rosaline, as her own eyes – definitely much, much younger than those of Miss Hobbs – were not able to make out any other details of the large thing in the distance other than a vaguely tree-shaped outline. She puzzled over this for a little while longer before concluding with dissatisfaction that her ancient companion was most likely joking to keep the heavy air a little lighter.

However, a nagging thought kept gnawing at the back of her mind – what was the true nature behind that mysterious smile Miss Hobbs had just previously adorned?

As if sensing the younger female's deep thought and confusion over this very simple answer, the ancient woman gave a humoured chuckle, startling Rosaline. She only started to think about this even harder, over analyzing every detail – dissecting it into small and precise bits as if they were of any real importance.

Soon, the pair arrived at the base of the tree-shaped thing they had seen from a distance. It was indeed a very large tree; a grand one at that. Rosaline's eyes widened in awe as she stared up at the tree. It stood so tall and marvellous over them, that she failed to even perceive the top. Her mouth was hanging open, and she began keeling back as she saw how the tree stretched up into the dark Heavens; it seemed as if angels – or even God themself – could descend from the great Skies, and use the tree as a means to greet her down on this tainted land. However, this clashed with how magical the tree felt; as if a great sorceress or sorcerer had cast a magnificent spell that could call forth spirits of many kind.

"Careful you must be, for the child is almost toppling over with thee," Miss Hobbs called to her, jolting Rosaline out of her thoughts. She just barely caught herself from falling over, and quickly lurched forward to regain balance. This sudden movement somehow managed to draw laughter from the child: a loud, high-pitched and bubbling squeal. The child's first moment of happiness. The female servant's heart soared at the feeling of great accomplishment and joy after the realization that she had, in some way, made the poor newborn child happy for the first time ever.

"Come thither, and we shalt discuss what we shalt do about this unlucky babe," Miss Hobbs told Rosaline with a serious tone. This sudden change in mood quite badly dampened Rosaline's joy, but she quickly nodded in understanding. They went around the base of the tree's trunk, and arrived at the bottom of a wooden staircase. Rosaline, despite the millions of questions that swam around the inside of her head, kept quiet and silently followed her old, old guide up the stairs. The climb up was somewhat long, but could be explained by the tree's great height itself.

They finally reached a similarly wooden door, and Miss Hobbs produced a key before unlocking the door. She pushed the door in, stepped forward, and moved aside to let Rosaline shuffle in after she muttered a quick 'thank you'. Miss Hobbs placed the lamp on a small table by the door, and opened a drawer in the table. She took out a pack of matches before striking one alive, and lit a lantern that was hanging on the wall. She then turned, and locked the door once more.

Rosaline took in her surroundings. Her dark eyes swept over the dimly-lit room that they were in, processing every little detail with great wonder. The first thing she noticed was how pleasantly warm it was, despite the cold season that was beginning to overtake them. They appeared to be in a mudroom of sorts, with cloaks and jackets of varying sizes and colours hung on other hooks nailed into the wall. There were only a few pairs of footwear neatly stashed away under the outer layers, separated by a wooden plank wedged in between two short posts.

Miss Hobbs leaned her knotted cane against a wall, and shed her cloak before hanging it up next to the surprisingly numerous overcoats. She kept her shoes on as she shuffled back to the lamp, and lifted in a hand while retaking her cane in the other. The ancient woman began wobbling into another room, leaving the younger female alone in the mud room.

Rosaline carefully set the basket down on the ground, catching a glimpse of the newborn's peaceful slumber while she undid the simple clasp on her cloak. She took it off, and hung it up next to Miss Hobbs' own cloak. Rosaline would have simply stomped the dirt off her boots, but she instead took them off, and stood on her toes while hitting them together to rid them of debris. Once satisfied, she stuck her freezing toes back into the slightly cleaner shoes, laced them up, and picked up the basket again before trailing after the much older woman.

Passing through a narrow hallway, she emerged in a much larger room. Miss Hobbs had lit another lantern within the room, but the lantern was quite big, and provided much more light than the other ones did due to its superiority in size. The said woman was currently bustling about, moving surprisingly fast for someone her age. She shuffled over to a pile of firewood that was stacked next to the fireplace.

"Ah, Miss Hobbs, please let me do the labour. You must rest," Rosaline offered, and stepped forward to help the much older woman. Miss Hobbs dismissively waved a hand at her.

"Thou must not strain thineself," Miss Hobbs told Rosaline in a firm voice. "I cannot fathom how much thou hath gone through during this grim night already. I would be a disgrace if I were to let such a worn soul do something as simple as this for me." Miss Hobbs turned her head to gaze at her younger companion's face, and nodded to herself. "Thine expression betrays much, Rosaline. Thou very obviously need much rest."

Rosaline was taken aback by the number of words Miss Hobbs had spoken to express her worry for her. She herself suddenly felt extremely tired, as if the adrenaline of the night's previous events had worn out as soon as someone else mentioned it. The weary female nodded very absentmindedly, and now practically dragged her feet as she approached a chair. She pulled the wooden seat out, and plopped down very heavily with the basket on her lap. Rosaline watched with extreme gratitude as Miss Hobbs picked up a few pieces of firewood, and stacked them in a neat square before repeating the process with more firewood. Soon, the small structure grew to stand quite tall. She then gathered some kindling from a box nearby, and packed them into the middle of the structure. Miss Hobbs produced the same box of matches from earlier, and pulled out a match. She struck it lit, and placed it into the pile of kindling. The two women of polar opposite ages watched the fire begin growing from the inside out, as the orange and yellow flames began overtaking the wood. Soon a healthy fire was snapping and crackling inside the fireplace. Miss Hobbs then began shuffling around the room, collecting various plants, and other ingredients for whatever she planned to make.

While the older woman was bustling about, Rosaline observed the various aspects of this much-more grand space, and was amazed by every detail it held. The wooden surfaces of the walls, tables, and chairs were a beautiful mahogany colour. They showed obvious age from the various nicks and scratches they harboured on their tops. Despite their wear and tear, they seemed strangely sturdy and reliable. Shrivelled plants and herbs of diverse shapes and colours were hanging on one wall off hooks. There were rows and rows of shelves containing jars containing odd substances and materials that Rosaline dared not identify. Ancient books that had dust collecting on the spines were neatly sorted in similarly built shelves. Not a single nook nor cranny in the room to be vacant. The center of the room had a large table with candles lined up, and taking up a great portion of the table. The candles were presently unlit. Before them sat an open book, and from a distance Rosaline could make up strange star-like shapes, and a multitude of words packed into each page. Leaves of some kind were neatly stacked next to the book, and small pebbles to stones were lined up on the other side of the leaves.

She could have gone on and on about describing the room in great precision, but it was so overwhelming that Rosaline eventually let it be for her own sake. She saw Miss Hobbs take a seat in one of the very few chairs that surrounded the round table. The ancient woman let out a long breath, very obviously relieved to be able to sit and rest her creaking bones after being out in the cold for quite some time. The pair sat in silence for a while, simply buried very deep in their thoughts for some time.

It was Rosaline who broke the silence with quiet question.

"What are we to do from here, madam?" Rosaline asked in a quiet voice that was just above a whisper.

"We are to follow the plan that hath been laid out by thine fallen lady and comrades," Miss Hobbs answered fairly quickly. The rapidness of the answer could be explained by the fact that she was simply stating the obvious. The ancient woman leaned back in her chair, and folded her hands in her lap. She adopted a very thoughtful expression, reflecting her deep thinking. "Although I am to raise the child, I believe the unexpected intervention from the soldiers hath very much twisted the tangled web of destiny. While the Prophecized Child's fate is still very much the same, thine fate is very murky now. While thou wouldst have continued to serve thine lady, and ensure her safety, here thou art carrying the very fate of this desolate land. We must decide what to do with thine own life and the child's life carefully, as any foul move could possibly doom this land for good."

Miss Hobbs' speech troubled the young servant. Her grip on the basket tightened, her brows creased, and her frown only deepened. The female servant had not expected to see herself spiriting the child to this safe haven. She knew that the eventual outcome could not be avoided. Rosaline would have to leave the child in the older woman's care and protection, while Rosaline herself would have to leave as soon as possible. She lacked a single clue as to where she would go – where _could_ she go? The commotion back at the main bridge wouldn't go unnoticed by the rest of the staff in the castle; especially the sudden disappearance of the 9-months-pregnant lady of the castle. If Rosaline were to return anywhere near the city the castle resided over, she would surely be apprehended. Even within the city she was fairly well known, as she was somehow very popular with the peasants. If Rosaline were spotted, and her presence was reported to the castle, she would surely be forced to go to the castle and explain what had happened. She had very little desire to do so, as the night's previous events were a dark matter that she struggled to control her emotions when reflecting on.

Rosaline stared at the child's peaceful expression with her own deeply troubled one for a while before she looked back up, and met eyes with Miss Hobbs. The said woman had a very wise expression, and this somehow calmed Rosaline's distressed mind.

"Do you know of any safe places I could go to?" she asked with immense hope. Miss Hobbs sighed deeply through her nose, and she closed her eyes in deep thought again. She finally opened them again and looked at the weary soul seated before her.

"This is where thine situation becomes very bleak," Miss Hobbs began. Rosaline seemed to become visibly depressed by this beginning. "True, thou could stay here with me, and aid me in the rearing of the Prophecized Child. However, thine presence could very well threaten the Prophecized Child's rise in some way."

"But _why_?!" Rosaline suddenly shouted out of frustration. Her hands flew to her mouth, and she quickly apologized before her eyes became even more downcast. Miss Hobbs seemed unaffected by the other's outburst.

"I can understand thine frustration. But the reason being for why thou cannot stay, thou should know very well thineself," Miss Hobbs continued in an even tone. "The demonic forces of the Black Eagle can – and will – track you down before slaughtering all 3 of us."

Rosaline's eyes widened, and she leaned back while dragging a hand down her face. She fully understood her stupidity. Somehow, she had managed to completely overlook the fact that the Impalers of the Black Eagle (she remembered the name of the battalion that had apprehended her own group) would obviously have some survivors. She highly doubted that all of them had perished in the explosion – God bless her lady for that sacrifice. The survivors would most likely track her down with some means: whether it be with hunting dogs, scouts, what have you.

She let out a heavy sigh, and sat back up but with a visibly dejected and slumped posture.

"Unfortunately, I am also quite unable to properly advise thee on how thou should proceed from here," Miss Hobbs admitted with sadness showing in her voice. "It is highly likely that the Black Eagle has gotten a whiff of thine scent. Though it is difficult to track one with only their scent in possession, the Black Eagle hath thus forth defied all of our expectations with countless feats of sorcery. No doubt the Black Eagle will find a way – if a way hath not been discovered yet – to track thee to the ends of this world."

The very old woman suddenly stopped speaking, and this caused Rosaline feel somewhat confused Initially she thought that the other had stopped to think about what to say, but upon lifting her head to look at the other, Rosaline discovered an expression of great reluctance and hesitation on the older woman's face.

"What is it, Miss Hobbs?" the younger female asked with worry. Her brows were now creased in curiosity and concern. Miss Hobbs remained silent for a while longer, staring off into the distance as if in more deep thought. She finally heaved a great sigh, and shifted uncomfortably in her seat before picking up where she left.

"I have very little desire to reveal this to thee," she began after some additional – by now frustrating – hesitation, "but it seems that a revelation and entrustment of sorts is necessary in a situation like thine own."

Rosaline tilted her head, and her confusion only deepened. Miss Hobbs took a hold of her cane once more, lifted herself off her seat, and walked over to a cabinet that sat in the room. Rosaline watched as the other woman opened the one of the cupboards, rummage through the space behind the doors, and pull out a strange, medium sized, circle-shaped object. Miss Hobbs came wobbling back to her seat before lowering herself onto the chair again. After setting her cane against the arm of her chair, she took the object that she had carried over in both hands.

Rosaline could now see that it was in fact a necklace – large enough to fit around one's neck, but much too small to be considered a circlet. It was a dull gold in colour, and had two pieces that twisted around each. Both ends were laced with leather string, and was held together with more string of the same material before being tied together completely with a simple knot. The necklace had engravings in a completely different language that was very foreign to Rosaline etched on its surface. The runes struck Rosaline as being very archaic, as she had never seen anything like them before – they were very angular and sharp in shape, with many triangles in their individual lettering. Other than that, there were odd symbols mixed in with the writing. The younger female was strangely entranced by the necklace.

"This necklace is a talisman designed to hide one's presence from demonic eyes," Miss Hobbs told Rosaline. "So long thou keep this necklace bound around thine neck at all times, thou art safe from the searching eyes of the Black Eagle and forces associated with the Eagle." She extended her hands to Rosaline, presenting the peculiar artifact to her. Rosaline looked up at Miss Hobbs, and Miss Hobbs nodded at her as if to give Rosaline permission to receive the object.

Carefully, Rosaline took the necklace from Miss Hobbs' outstretched hands, and into her own. She untied the simple knot, and brought the talisman around her neck. She tried tying the knot again, but had much difficulty as she could not see it, and because her actions were being perceived backwards. Miss Hobbs saw this struggle of hers, and rose from the seat once again. She lifted a hand before Rosaline could protest.

"Do not attempt to waste precious time by trying to tie a simple knot," Miss Hobbs seemed to chide. "Not only would thou make our demise a quicker approach, but if I were not able to make sure that the talisman is properly secured, I fear it will slip, therefore sealing your bleak fate."

Rosaline felt her cheeks go red in embarrassment, but nonetheless stayed silent as the older woman approached her from behind. She felt Miss Hobbs take the two ends of the string from her, and so let her arms fall around the basket. Miss Hobbs made quick work of tying the knot, unlike Rosaline, and Rosaline soon felt the cold material of the leather knot rest on the back of her neck.

"Thou may want to consider practising the tying of knots, Rosaline," Miss Hobbs joked as she shuffled back to her seat. The insulted party felt her cheeks burn even brighter, thus causing her to lower her face, but still catch a glimpse of Miss Hobbs' amused smile.

"Now, returning to more pressing matters," Miss Hobbs reinstated in a much more serious tone. "As I have said earlier, I am afraid I cannot advise thee very well in terms of thine future. However, I do have knowledge of a few locations that will keep you safe. These places were once inhabited by elves, and so are blessed by their magic. This very magic wards off evil spirits and demons, and will effectively protect thee from these forces that may attempt to hunt thee."

Miss Hobbs' expression suddenly darkened: her brows drew close together, and her lips became thinned into a line. Rosaline felt an ominous sense of dread.

"There are abhorrent beasts – horrible, blood-letting creatures of the Dark – known as 'Apostles'."

This naming of these horrid monsters greatly confused Rosaline. Aren't apostles the messengers of God, and not a pack of savage killers? However, she remained silent and listened to Miss Hobbs' explanation of Rosaline's dark future.

"These Apostles are horrendous beings who have sacrificed people who were near and dear to them for the sake of power. They have no sense of right or wrong, and hunger for the flesh of those who are living. I believe the Black Eagle has somehow managed to control, and recruit Apostles – hundreds, if not thousands of them. Their hunger for human flesh will be their drive to find thee, and eventually devour thine body. Their noses never fail them, and they are able to track prey for miles upon end. No doubt that the Black Eagle has found some sort of object that carries thy scent, and will toss it to the Apostles serving under the Eagle so that they may come find thee.

"However, this is is also where some hope can be found for thee." Miss Hobbs paused, and watched as Rosaline's bleak eyes lit up with some hope. "These locations where the elves once inhabited provide a sanctuary those who are haunted by restless spirits. The elves' remaining presence will barricade thee from these Apostles, no matter how they may try to enter the location.

"I have knowledge of where some of these locations preside. However, we must choose which of these places thou will travel to wisely. One of them is closer than the others, but is still quite close to Sanguinneg. Thy scent will surely be masked, and the Apostles will be unable to find thee. But the Black Eagle would then post a bounty on thee, and ensure that thou be brought back alive by the Apostles at all costs. Surely then, men, and even women, who are severely deprived of any money during this dire age will go out and attempt to locate you. These men would be able to employ hunting dogs, who could trace thy scent to your dwelling, before you are effectively captured, and brought back to the Black Eagle."

Rosaline rose a hand, as if to ask a question. This sight led Miss Hobbs to stop speaking, and patiently wait for the younger female to try and re-collect her thoughts. Rosaline lowered her hand, and remained silent for a few moments with a focused expression before beginning her slow barrage of questions.

"First, and foremost, Miss Hobbs," Rosaline began, "are you a witch?"

This incredibly silly, and juvenile caught the wise woman off-guard. She stared at Rosaline in shock before holding back a laugh. "Is... that thy first question?" Miss Hobbs queried, her eyes widened out of disbelief. Despite the obvious mockery coming from her, Rosaline kept a serious face on, and nodded in affirmation. Miss Hobbs' smile of dubiety suddenly dropped, and she frowned in discomfort. The two women stared at each other for a while longer, before Miss Hobbs saw how truly determined Rosaline was to find an answer. Heaving a great sigh, Miss Hobbs finally gave a very hesitant answer.

"Indeed I am, Rosaline," Miss Hobbs confirmed Rosaline's suspicions. Now it was Rosaline's turn to look shocked. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her mouth hung open. Her expression remained the same until she managed to stutter a reaction.

"T-Truly, Miss Hobbs?" she asked. Miss Hobbs gave a wary nod and smile, anticipating how Rosaline may react on this newly discovered news.

"...Are thou not upset, or unsettled by this knowledge that I am a witch?" Miss Hobbs asked after Rosaline's continual silence. This seemed to snap Rosaline out of her trance, and she shook her head in response. A bright and excited smile split her cheeks, and caused her to look many years younger than she was.

"Unsettled or upset is the last thing I would be feeling right now, Miss Hobbs!" Rosaline assured her older companion. This seemed to visibly relax the other by a great deal, and her previously tense posture slumped, and she leaned back in her seat with a neutral expression.

"In fact, I would say that I am feeling quite excited by this discovery!" Rosaline added. She looked around the room in wonder while continuing to speak. "I know the Holy See Religious Order's spreading of their beliefs have caused the retreat and hiding of people who use sorcery, but I never expected a witch to have been hiding here, so close to Sanguinneg. Especially since Sanguinneg is one of the most important cities in Remurrant!"

She paused and looked at Miss Hobbs with a sudden look of curiosity. "Did my lady know that you are a witch?"

Miss Hobbs shook her head. "Nay. Though I am fairly certain that thy lady hath never even suspected a witch to be residing so close to her castle, she may have had a slight suspicion that there was indeed one dwelling somewhere close by. However, I highly doubt that she would have thought that the witch is me. If she even had the slightest belief of this truth, you most likely would not even be here with the Prophecized Child."

Rosaline looked down at the sleeping child resting in the basket that sat on her lap with an expression of deep thought. She wondered where the child possibly could have gone to, if her lady had decided to send the child elsewhere. She looked back up to Miss Hobbs.

"But how are you even able to stand the Holy See if their beliefs drove you out?" she asked with heavy questioning. "You are the head of the most powerful convent in Sanguinneg! How can you tolerate the very beliefs that forced you to go into hiding?"

Miss Hobbs smiled at the comment. "I saw it necessary to hold such a position if I were to ensure mine own survival. Besides, I do not harbour hate towards the Holy See Religious Order for the teaching of their beliefs. Their concepts on this world simply differ from mine, and therefore I find it hard to hate those who drove me out for doing so. This matter is still a strange one, and I believe it will waste more time if we are to discuss why I do not hate the Holy See."

 _Aren't you already wasting time by letting me ask these questions?_ Rosaline pondered incredulously, sweating a bit. _Though that would make me a hypocrite for thinking that, since I_ am _the one asking all these miscellaneous questions. Still, I might as well bring it up if Miss Hobbs is so willing to answer all of them._

"Speaking of time, is it safe for me to be asking these questions?" Rosaline voiced her thoughts. This caused Miss Hobbs to chuckle.

"Worry not. Though we are still pressed, this dwelling of mine is heavily protected by various talismans, all quite similar to the one thou art wearing at the moment. Even if the remaining forces of those who apprehended you do report to their master in due time, the Black Eagle will still have trouble sending out any Apostles to hunt thee down."

Miss Hobbs' answer led Rosaline to feel a little dumb, but she kept a neutral face to try and hide this humiliation she felt.

"Well, I don't think I have any other questions," Rosaline pondered aloud. "Should I leave now, or will you let me rest for the night?" Despite Rosaline's brave offer to be on the move at any given moment, any could clearly see that Rosaline was definitely hoping for some sort of reprise after the tiring events of the night. Still, the weary servant did her best to keep a courageous face one.

Miss Hobbs gave a reassuring smile. "Worry not, my child. The Black Eagle will be quite focused on the discovery of the meaning behind the explosion that killed off a good portion of her forces, and will most likely be quite busied by Apostles begging to be let on the loose. No matter how skilled of a commander the Black Eagle may be, I highly doubt that the Eagle will be able to assign any hunting roles tonight."

Rosaline very visibly relaxed. She let out a huge, pent up sigh, and slid down in her seat. She still kept a vice grip on the basket, though, showing how unwilling she was to let the then-sleeping newborn wake and cause another uproar of wailing, screaming, and crying. Miss Hobbs began standing up, and Rosaline was about to shoot up from her seat to offer assistance before remembering what the older woman had told her. Rosaline remained seated, and watched as Miss Hobbs rose to her full height – which wasn't much.

"For now, I will ask thee for thine assistance in settling the child down in their room," Miss Hobbs told Rosaline. "Unfortunately, I have only prepared the room for the child to stay in. I have not had guests stay here in many years, and so all the other guest rooms are filled with my belongings. However, if thou art fine with making space in one of these rooms for thineself to sleep in, then thou art welcome to choose a guest room to settle down in for the night."

Rosaline was unable to answer because of the level of hospitality and kindness Miss Hobbs had showed – no, _treated –_ her to in such a short amount of time. Her lips flapped for a little before she managed to give a stuttering answer. "I am very much fine with that, Miss Hobbs. Thank you kindly for this. You have my deepest gratitude." Rosaline curtsied, and bowed her head very low. She improvised a curtsy by wrapping one arm around the basket, and stretched one arm out. It was quite close to the traditional curtsy that was performed by women in Remurrant, with only the other arm being held in front of a woman's chest, and the kneeling missing.

Miss Hobbs gave a warm chuckle at the sight of this action, and held a hand to her face in a show of modesty. "My, I am quite warmed by thy display of thy deep gratitude." Rosaline quickly went back to a standing position, and began following walking to catch up to Miss Hobbs. Miss Hobbs herself turned around to walk through one of the several doorways that connected this large room to the rest of the dwelling. She opened the door, and walked through the dark hallway. She struck another match from her box, and lit a lamp that adorned the wall near the door. Rosaline suddenly had a thought as she watched the clear glass of the lamp light up as the fire inside of it sprung to life.

"Miss Hobbs, if you are able to employ magic, why do you not simply cast a spell to light your house at all times?" Rosaline asked out of curiosity. Though she was a bit dumbfounded as to why the witch didn't do so, she was sure there was some sort of rational explanation as to why Miss Hobbs didn't use any magic as a source of light.

Miss Hobbs paused in her action of retreating her hand from the lamp. Rosaline was a bit taken aback to see that she was actually putting some thought into this simple question.

"Why, that is actually a good question," Miss Hobbs mused aloud. Rosaline blinked in surprise at this answer. "Despite my extended use of magic, my habits prior to learning such spells have seemingly stuck with me." Miss Hobbs tucked the dead match into a pocket of her jacket. "Additionally, my late mistress had not taught me any spells as simple as creating a source of light until much later into my education of magic, as she had focused on more defensive and offensive ones at first. By then, I was already quite used to manually lighting lamps." Miss Hobbs continued down the hallway after answering Rosaline's question. Rosaline herself remained rooted to her spot for a bit, seemingly confused by this answer. She shook her head to free herself from this, and followed Miss Hobbs.

The witch stopped at the first door that dotted the short hallway. The door looked very plain, and had a completely normal feeling to it. However, Miss Hobbs lifted her cane, muttered a few incomprehensible words, knocked the top of her knotted cane on the centre of the door, before the unlocking of a lock resounded in the hallway. Miss Hobbs then turned the doorknob, and pushed the door inwards before stepping into the dark room.

Rosaline stared at this scene in bewilderment. _She didn't even need a key!_ Rosaline quickly stepped after Miss Hobbs so that she was not left behind. She saw Miss Hobbs light another lamp, and the room was instantaneously brightened by the only source of light in the vicinity (in spite of the size of the lamp itself). Rosaline's brows creased at this sight, and concluded that this was most likely the work of Miss Hobbs' magic.

The room itself was very tidy, as Miss Hobbs had prepared it some time ago. It lacked any defining features: there was a single window on the far wall, with its curtains drawn closed. There was a plain crib sitting parallel to the wall in the far corner, with a pure white pillow, and blankets resting on it. The crib looked as if it was originally a bed, but had tall, wooden railings installed into its sides. There was a wooden desk with a similarly wooden chair situated next to the bed, which currently sat very empty. A large, wooden closet sat on the other side of the bed. Other than that, there were no decorations. Everything was extremely pristine and unblemished, contrasting the rest of the house the room existed in. However, in spite of its extreme cleanliness and neatness, it felt very empty and lacking of any warm – if any – emotions.

"Set the basket on the chair for now," Miss Hobbs instructed. "I do not wish for the blanket to be dirtied, for the child is only a newborn, and is therefore extremely vulnerable to even the simplest form of disease." Rosaline did as told, and approached the chair before carefully resting the extremely precious basket on the chair. She turned around, and faced the older woman, awaiting further instructions.

"Unfortunately, as thou can tell, I lack the necessary means to provide the right food for the child," Miss Hobbs admitted. Rosaline nodded in understanding, with a faint blush resting on her cheeks at this thought. "However, I do have some... assistants, as one could call them, who have been able to provide me with a substitute. I have this substitute ready, but I must ask you to retrieve it from the kitchen. The kitchen is right next to this hallway, and thou must simply go in, and find the food on the table."

Rosaline nodded, and began walking towards the kitchen. She wondered what – or who these 'assistants' Miss Hobbs referred to could be, but she decided to leave that matter for another time. Rosaline quickly made her way through the main room, and into the kitchen. She found the very food that Miss Hobbs was talking about. It wasn't food at all, but rather milk in a bottle, as one would expect. Rosaline's disappeared blush returned at an even more intense burn as she thought about how Miss Hobbs could have gotten a hold of this milk at such an age, before remembering the existence of cows, and letting out a noise of frustration again. The flustered female picked the bottle up in both hands, before returning to the child's room.

Once there, Rosaline found Miss Hobbs carrying the newborn in her arms, and rocking the child in a soothing manner. Miss Hobbs noticed Rosaline's arrival, and took the bottle from her. Miss Hobbs began to feed the milk to the child in an experienced manner.

"I can take care of the child in from here," Miss Hobbs told Rosaline while still focused on the child. "Thou art very weary, I can tell, and thou must get as much rest possible before the day arrives so that you may be fully recovered for a tiresome journey." Rosaline was about to protest, but she restrained herself to nodding, and was about to pass Miss Hobbs before she began speaking again.

"The guest rooms are all in the next hallway over," Miss Hobbs described to Rosaline. "Enter the main room, go to the hallway with the shelf full of herbs next to it, and choose one of the rooms from there. From what I can remember, the room at the very end has the most space for thee to sleep in. There are some blankets, and possibly a pillow in the closet. There is also a lamp next to the door. Take the matches from my right pocket." Rosaline reached into the aforementioned pocket, and pulled out the pack of matches that Miss Hobbs had been repeatedly using.

Rosaline took a step back, and curtsied once more – this time properly – and professed her deep gratitude before standing to her full height, and making her way to the guest room she would be staying in.

Rosaline passed through the main room once more before reaching the designated room. She inspected the door, suspicious that it was locked by some strange contraption like the child's room was, before testing the doorknob. It turned like any other one would, and relief filled Rosaline's mind as she stepped into the dark room. The tired woman struck a match, and lit the only lamp in the room before observing the state of condition the room was in.

As expected, there was a mess of items stacked to the brim in the room. However, it only took up half the room, and Rosaline located the closet before opening it up. She pulled out the folded-up blankets, and was pleased to find that there was indeed a pillow. The items Rosaline held were in surprisingly good condition. Rosaline then placed the blankets and pillow down on a box that sat near her, and picked up one of the blankets. She spread it out on the ground, smoothed it out, before placing the pillow at the top. She momentarily paused to decide whether or not she should return the matches. However, for once in her lifetime, she decided she would put her own needs before anything else. Rosaline took the box of matches out from the pocket on her apron, and set it on the same box she had left the rest of the blankets on.

Rosaline then proceeded to take the lamp off the wall, and sat it next to where her head would soon be resting. The thought of sleep enticed the worn out woman, and she made quick work of unfolding the blankets, holding them together, and laying them over herself as she stretched out on the makeshift bed. Despite the fact that she was sleeping on the ground, Rosaline didn't seem to care at all, as she was used to sleeping on the floor. Having a blanket to separate herself from the floor was a luxury that Rosaline welcomed.

As sleep tugged on her eyelids, Rosaline rolled over and blew the light in the lamp off, before nestling into her blankets. It wasn't long before the even breathing of Rosaline was the only sound heard in the now-dark room as she fell fast asleep.


End file.
